


Erosion

by infiniteworld8



Series: Tainted Angel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Dean, Daddy Issues, Dean Has Issues, Discussion of Abortion, Disturbing Themes, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Fucked Up, Identity Issues, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Underage Rape/Non-con, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteworld8/pseuds/infiniteworld8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things you have a choice...some you don't. Unless you're a Winchester than that choice is already made for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erosion

She woke up to a nauseated feeling, like she had a mild case of food poisoning that just wouldn't go away. Deanna already knew the drill as she quickly tossed off the scruffy motel blankets and nearly ran barefoot to the bathroom, one hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

She had just enough time to flip the dirty toilet seat up and sweep her short hair back with one hand before last night’s dinner made an appearance. She was retching so hard she didn't notice Sam was awake until footsteps padded in and a hand grabbed her hair from where it had fallen from her grip and held it back.

It took her another minute or two before Deanna felt safe to rock back on her heels and flush the toilet with one tenuous hand.

Sam looked worried his nine year old eyes wide. “You still have food poisoning, maybe it’s not food poisoning, maybe--?”

Deanna swallowed; Sam’s words were making her feel sicker as he unwittingly roused her own fears. She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m fine Sam.”

“We should call dad. You’ve been sick for days...he--”

Deanna yanked on the faucet and splashed water on her face before turning to Sam. “Shut up and get dressed, I'm fine.”

“But De--” he faltered at the glare she gave and after a moment's deliberation stalked off.

Deanna went and snagged a fresh set of clothes then went in the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She called out to Sam. “First shower is mine.”

“No fair you--”

Deanna didn't listen. She turned on the water and stripped quickly. She needed to feel clean...even if she never actually would be.

The water rushed over her scalding her skin and she scrubbed and scrubbed with cheap motel soap and a hard bristly brush.

She rinsed her hair and rubbed the soap over her body, pausing on her stomach. The usually flat plane was rounded, just slightly. But enough that the soap fell from her fingers and landed on the shower floor.

Tears fell then too, hard and fast. She knew what was wrong with her...she had known for a while now and she had suspected even longer when her period failed to come.

It took her several minutes to compose herself. By that time the water was cold. She dried off and opened the door. Sam bitched as he pushed past but she was too numb to retort back.

School passed in a blur. She ditched Sam at the motel afterwards after making up an excuse. It was a fifteen minute walk to the nearest store. The lady at the counter looked at her weird when brought the test box up to the counter.

The lie she had practiced died halfway on her lips “It's for my mo--” and then she couldn't say anymore. Her voice caught in her throat and her eyes burned. She could tell the woman didn't believe her.

Her nametag said her name was Marge and her eyes looked kind. Deanna couldn't speak as the woman came from behind the counter and stood in front of her. “How old are you sweetie?”

Deanna knew why she was asking. She looked young and a girl her age had no business buying pregnancy test for herself. If Marge knew how old she was she'd have child services called so fast. So Deanna lied.

“Sixteen”

She watched the woman's shoulders relax a bit, like somehow a few more years made it all better.

“Does he know?”

Deanna choked on a sob at that. She knew the woman was assuming some adolescent crush or one time drunken bad decision was the reason she was awkwardly standing in the middle of the store with a bawling teenager who was holding a pregnancy test. If she knew who the real father was she would have been horrified. Instead Deanna shook her head, already dreading having to tell John.

The woman questioned her some more, but Deanna was vague, so after a few minutes she gave up. Deanna stood in silence as the woman rang up her purchases and then as she turned to leave Marge reached under the counter and came up with a handful of pamphlets. “Read over these at least dear.”  Deanna nodded but shoved them deep into her jacket pocket without looking, before hurrying from the store.

When she got home she ignored Sam and barricaded herself in the bathroom. Carefully she read the instructions on the pregnancy test box. There were two tests in the box, one to check and one to be sure she reasoned.

She followed the directions and waited minutes for the colours to change. Her heart sank and more tears pricked her eyes as she saw the pale pink lines.

Angrily she crushed the test and tossed it in the garbage but five minutes later another showed the same results.

When she unlocked the door her eyes were red rimmed from crying.

She made Sam a sandwich for dinner in silence ignoring his increasingly worried questions. Then she crawled into bed pulling the blankets up and wishing morning would never come.

She had just fallen asleep when the bed creaked and then dipped. Her heart caught in her throat before she remembered John was still out hunting.

It was only Sam. His cold feet bumped against the back of her legs as he snuggled up next to her. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, sounding young and scared.

“Dee? You awake?”

She didn't answer but Sam apparently decided on the answer to his question himself because he continued. “Please tell me what's wrong? Please.”

She would have liked to tell someone...she would have liked to tell anyone. But she couldn't. If an adult knew they'd take her and Sam away and split them up. And Sam couldn't know there was nothing he could do anyway...and it wasn't so bad...things could be worse…except they already were.

Deanna waited and eventually the sound of Sam’s quiet snores floated by her ear. It was almost morning before she fell asleep herself.

School passed in another haze as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn't keep the baby...and she didn't want to except it felt wrong...it made her feel like a murderer to contemplate getting rid of the child inside her. And anyway she didn’t know of many places that would let a barely fourteen year old come in and get an abortion.

Just thinking the word made her feel dirty and guilty...not as dirty and guilty as when John came to her and made her be quiet as he did what he wanted...but the feeling was close.

Night came and by then she was no longer crying but instead she just felt numb. She hadn't eaten all day and felt sick. She was at the cheap motel table eating box Mac and cheese with Sam when things got even worse.

John came home.

“Dad!” Sam dropped the spoon he was holding as he heard the characteristic sound of the impala then footsteps. Deanna waited for John's knock...the one that signaled he was human and not a monster impersonating him. Deanna had long ceased to think that John was human...not after what he did to her. But she knew that she had to wait, if not he'd be pissed at her for not following orders. He'd take it out her ass later...literally.

The knock came and Deanna opened the door. Sam came bounding towards their dad. He was met with a bear hug and a tousle of his hair. Deanna hung back...she didn't want John to acknowledge her. Not now not ever. But she never escaped his notice.

“You took good care of your brother while I was gone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That's my good girl.”

He reached out pulling her close in a hug, wrapping one arm around her and the other around Sam. Only she knew he didn't cup Sam's butt or pull him closer so he could feel John’s groin harden.

She wanted to throw up.

She wanted to cry.

Instead she forced herself to smile for Sam and keep the begging only in her eyes. Maybe John saw her silent plea...maybe he didn’t, but she was sure he did. He just didn’t care.

He pulled away from them both after a few seconds. His voice was taut, all business. “Sam it's time you went to bed.”

Sam whined, frowning. “What about Dean?”

“I've got some stuff to check out with your sister. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

“But Dean’s sick.”

John glanced at her and she wondered did he care. But he dismissed Sam's comments. “Bed Sam and don't argue with me or you're going to regret it.”

Sam looked ready to rebel but Dean gave the slightest of head shakes and he backed off.

Deanna grabbed her jacket taking as long as possible. She was just delaying the inevitable but she even a few minutes reprieve was better than nothing.

“Keep the door shut. Make sure you leave the salt lines alone. And don't open the door unless you're sure it’s me.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam answered, but his voice was sullen.

John ignored the tone and instead barked. “Come on, Deanna.”

The car ride was quiet at first. At first Deanna thought they might actually scope out the next town or meet up with some local (it was always easier to find out stuff when Deanna came along and flashed her pretty face, or so her dad liked to say.)

Except John started drinking...he already smelled like lingering old whiskey but the new flask he pulled from somewhere deep in his jacket soon had the smell of cheap booze permeating the confines of the Impala. Old AC/DC filled the air and Deanna tried to drown herself in the strands of the music, anything to quell the fear rising with every passing seconds as her father drank.

For a few blessed minutes as he drove she thought he was going to turn onto the main highway and maybe he’d just go shoot pool at some cheap bar for quick cash while he left her to her own devices.

Her hope disappeared as John pulled off onto some side road and then a few minutes later stopped the car.  Night had just come and twilight was still lingering. It was just dark enough that no one would be able to see what was happening in the car if they drove by and even if they could have the road they were on looked deserted.

John killed the engine and then it started.

A warm, rough hand on trailed down the side of her face. “You get prettier with each day.”  Deanna inwardly shuddered and pulled her coat closer. She cringed from John's touch but that didn't stop him from groping his way down her chest.

“You know I love you sweetheart right?”  He leaned closer his stale boozy breath making her want to gag. “I love you so much. Just like Mary, I loved her so much.”

He tugged at the cheap T-shirt she was wearing under her shirt. She shuddered as his lips neared hers but abruptly he pulled away muttering something she couldn’t quite make out. He opened the car door and it slammed as he got out.

She thought about locking the door as she saw him walk a short distance away partially facing a broken rail fence as he undid his zipper and began pissing. She raised her fingers to one of the manual locks about to press it down, and then stopped as she realized John had the keys to the impala. She could hotwire it but that would take too long and if she tried to get away then….it would only be worse.

Deanna turned back to find John had finished and was walking back towards the car. Her heart picked up as he approached then he was at her door. The door clicked as he swung it open. “Get out.”

Deanna knew what was coming next and tried to stave off the inevitable for as long as possible. “Dad, come on. It’s late Sam is waiting for us and--”

He wasn’t listening...he rarely did. Instead he reached out grabbing the shoulder of her jacket. “Come on sweetheart.”

His voice was deceptively gentle, like a father to his beloved daughter...or a lover’s endearment. But all she felt as she heard his gravely insistence was fear. Her eyes were burning as she forced her body to move, it was either she did what he wanted or he would make her. Sometime she didn’t know what was worse. To lay there broken as he forcibly had his way with her or to cry in defeat as she gave in.

Her boots hit the gravel of the road. John closed the door with a slam behind her and opened one of the back one’s. She felt like she was in a daze. She couldn’t think; she couldn’t do anything consciously. Her body felt like it was moving against her will. All she could do was experience. The sights, smells, sounds, the emotions.

Stale liquor, old cologne mixed with sweat, the crunch of gravel under her boots, cold wind in her hair, fear tugging at every part of her body. Somehow she found herself scooting onto the backseat.

She pressed back trying to get as far away as possible as her father climbed in. He was hovering over her, the door slammed as he reached back closing it.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, it was part instinct and part conscious thought that made her fight back...sometimes she couldn’t force herself to be still. Sometimes the instinct to protect herself won out over obedience.

Plus, there was no Sam to be quiet for. No reason to be still, biting her lips and feeling her father move in her, feeling his lips on her skin, his sweat dripping down her collarbone.

Now, was a deserted road, there was no one to hear her scream but she did anyway. Something visceral inside her felt like it was tearing free. She pushed him away, pummeling him with her fists.

Tears burned in her eyes and they fell hard and fast as she felt her father start to shake and realised he was laughing. The scream died in her throat, barely a hint of it had been heard anyway.

John leaned closer and she could feel his fingers peeling her jacket back and his lips pressed against her collarbone. “Don’t act like you don’t want this...always such a feisty girl Mary.”

Deanna nearly gagged at that. She hated her mother so much, for what the woman probably would never know, but everyone time her father whispered her mother’s name as he forced himself on her, she hated that woman. For having her, for marrying the man who would become her tormenter.  For dying her and leaving her with a monster worse than any they ever hunted. The thick odour of booze was wafting off her father, and a part of her knew that him calling her Mary and what was going to happen next wasn’t because he was drunk.

He needed her when he was drunk...he wanted her when he was sober.

Deanna forced herself to relax; she could feel John’s fingers slipping under the waistband of her jeans as he tugged them down. Then they were down by her ankles, her jacket was off. Somehow her shirt was slipping over her head, and then his fingers were teasing her panties off.

She was openly crying now, muffled sobs. But that didn’t matter. He did what he wanted; he pushed in ignoring her cries. Tears were trickling down her cheeks, his warm stale breath puffed out above her. She could feel him inside her and she hated every moment of it. It felt like hours but it was probably only a few minutes…then it was over.

John was pulling back, tired, spent. His fingers thumbed the tears off her cheeks. “That’s my sweet girl.”

Deanna forced her tears to stop; her teeth sank into her bottom lip. She could taste blood, but the pain helped her focus….helped her regain a little control. Silently she got dressed and followed her father out. As her she climbed out the backseat her jacket snagged on the back door. She hadn’t realized the pamphlets she had gotten earlier that day were still there…or that they had fallen out until John picked them up.

She waited breath caught in her throat, as he thumbed through them in the moonlight. Finally, he looked up. His eyes glared at her. “What is this?”

“Deanna couldn’t speak.

John came closer; he grabbed the front of her jacket. “What the hell is this for?”

She didn’t answer, she couldn’t answer. Her breath was caught in her throat as he glanced over the paper clenched in his fist, then he turned back to her, eyes cold. “What is this?”

Tears started to fall, salty and warm down her cheeks. She couldn’t begin to lie; the truth was caught in her throat as she blurted out. “I’m pregnant.”

John just stared at her and Deanna could hear the wind blowing and an owl somewhere in the distance as silence stretched.

“You’re sure?”

Deanna nodded; she opened her mouth about to say something…exactly what she wasn’t sure.

John’s hand flashed out slapping her face hard enough that her ears rang. “You’ve been fucking one of the boys at school.”

Deanna shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her sore cheek in one hand.

“Liar.”

“Dirty slut, probably one of the guys at bars, the boys at your school, anyone you meet takes fancy to your ass.”

Deanna shook her head again.”N-No—“John stopped her words grabbing her face in his hand.

“We’ve got a demon to kill, monsters to hunt and have you thought about your baby brother? Who’s supposed to take care of Sam now that you’ve got yourself pregnant?” John shook her realizing her face to grab her shoulders. “You’re going to get rid of it, you little whore. You hear me? You’re—“

“It’s yours!” Deanna couldn’t hold back anymore, she screamed the words out past her tears, not caring if her words would earn her more pain. She couldn’t take it anymore. “It’s not the boys at school, it’s not anyone’s but yours.”

Silence followed her proclamation and all Deanna could hear was the sound of her own sobs.

After a moment John turned and started to walk to the driver’s side of the car, he stopped as he went to open the door and looked straight at her. “I don’t care, get rid of it.”

When she got home Sam was asleep in the bed farthest from the door.  John hadn’t bothered to come in. As soon as she had got out the car he had taken off. She knew he find booze, or a fight…one or all and that would occupy him for the rest of the night.

She cleaned up in the bathroom trying not to wake Sam, but when she crawled into bed next to him, he was already awake. His voice was sleepy like he had been trying hard not to fall asleep, and she knew he had been waiting for her. “Where’s dad?”

“He went back out.”

“Where?”

“I—I don’t know.” Deanna tried to keep her voice from shaking but wasn’t sure how successful she was.  “Shut up now Sam, I’m trying to sleep.”

The irritation in her voice wasn’t genuine and Sam picked up on it.  Abruptly the light switched on, Deanna blinked at the sudden glare and tried to turn her face away burying it in her pillow.

“Dee? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I told you I’m trying to sleep.”

“Look at me.”

Deanna buried her head deeper, not turning; she knew if she did he would see the tears in her eyes and the bruises on her face.

“Dee?” She felt a hand on her face and then her face was gently being turned. She stared into Sam’s eyes, blinking past the tears that hadn’t fallen. His jaw worked and his face turned pale. Sam’s voice was deadly quiet as he whispered. “I hate him.”

“This wasn’t—“

“Don’t lie for him.”

“I’m not lying I—“She stopped because it was a lie…and both she and Sam knew it.

“What was it this time? The knives weren’t sharpened well enough? You missed cleaning one of the guns _?”_ Sam’s voice was bitter but all the reasons he had listed were valid reasons in the past for John. Not valid reasons for her to be punished….valid reasons for John to think he had an excuse for punishing her.

Sam was still going on though, like it was some desperate puzzle he needed to understand. “Is—is it because something I did…did he find out that we skipped school when he was gone last week or—He’s always mad about something, always something we do wrong and—“

“Shhh—“Deanna placed a finger over his mouth, stopping his words.

After a moment she took her finger away. Sam’s eyes were boring into hers.

“It was nothing okay? Dad was drunk and I mouthed off.” The lie burned on her lips but she continued…just as she had always continued…for Sam’s sake. “You know dad loves you right, he was just drunk.” She didn’t mention herself, she didn’t want John’s love…Sam had started to cry. She could tell by the way he was crinkling his face; he was trying to hold back the tears for her sake. To be strong for her, but he was just a kid, just a nine year old he wasn’t the one that had to be strong. He wasn’t the one that should have to be strong. She was.

And Deanna didn’t know if she was strong enough for what she had to do…for all that she had ever done. She reached around gathering Sam towards her chest and burying her head in the top of his hair. His tears soaked her shirt and hers burned her eyes but they didn’t fall.

John came back early the next morning, before Sam even got up. The motel door opened up in early morning and Deanna heard the tell-tale creak and gently disentangled herself from the blankets and Sam’s sprawled limbs. The cool metal of her gun fit her hand like a glove as she clicked the trigger back; waiting for the signal it was her dad and not a monster. The signal never came, instead the door clicked open and John appeared.

He smelled like booze but his eyes were more sober. They stared at each other for moments, Deanna had the pistol aimed right at him and her finger on the trigger. She could feel a weight tugging at her, something begging for her to just apply the tiniest pressure.

Then this nightmare would all be over….and another one would begin. Foster homes, CPS, separation from Sam. That last reason got to her like it always did and she lowered her gun. Flicking the safety on and stowing it in the waistband of her pants.

John motioned for her to come with him…and she glanced back at Sam’s sleeping form before she did. The motel decking was cool against her feet as she following John outside to the balcony.

The motel room door clicked behind them.

“Get rid of it.” John didn’t look at her as he spoke.

Deanna tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears. She wanted to cry, but she bit her lips. She couldn’t keep what was growing inside of her, she knew that. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want any of this and yet she didn’t have a choice. John was telling her, forcing her like he always did. Making this her fault.

_And maybe it was?_

_Don’t wear those short shorts, your eyes look like your mothers when you turn you head like that. Soft , sweet lips. Figure just like your mothers. You’re tempting your old man girl._

Thoughts spiraled around her head as she remembered words, times, hands, fingers, lips. Kissing, sucking , biting, petting, thr—

“Pay attention!” John’s voice was low, but she heard the growl in throat. He reached out placing a hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging in painfully.”I’m going to scout out another hunt for a few days. When I get back I want this over. You go somewhere, you do what you have to do but you get this done, understand.”

Deanna nodded, straightening up, holding John’s gaze now that he was staring at her. She could handle this—orders—she knew how to follow orders.

“Yes, sir.”

John nodded and continued. “You get this done and don’t cause any trouble for Sam or the rest of us. Don’t bring the authorities down here, because you want to be a slut.”

John’s words stung, and Deanna felt her throat thickening, she knew her face was ghost pale, but she managed not to cry. “Yes, sir.”

She felt numb as John without another word went back into the motel room and retrieved his duffel. She waited until he had walked back to the impala waiting below and drove out the motel parking lot. She waited until her feet felt numb and the tears had dried and then she walked in.

She walked in with a smile on her face, because she heard cartoons and that meant Sam was awake. Inside though, her chest was heavy.

Sam didn’t find out why she was quiet during dinner, or why her eyes burned after and she didn’t join in when he tried to debate comics with her. She had kept her and John a secret for years, she wasn’t about to tell now.

After school the next day she left Sam at the motel and set out. Sam whined about wanting to come along when she said she was going for groceries…but eventually he followed her orders…he always did.

It was cool, as she walked past the grocery store, past the school and out of town. She hit the main highway, and stood there thumb held out, and the wind rustling her hair. After about half an hour a pickup truck stopped, it was a dark green, more rust than metal truck but it would get her where she was going. Two towns over was one big enough that no one would think to remember her.

“Where you going?”

“Jefferson.” Deanna added as the man didn’t pull the truck back onto the road immediately. “If you aren’t going there, just get me as close and I’ll find someone else to hitch a ride with the rest of the way.”

The man didn’t move so Deanna finished. “I’ve got some money for gas and your trouble.”

At that he responded, his graying eyebrows furrowed together and his craggy face frowned. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen” Deanna lied. The only reason she didn’t say eighteen was because she was sure she couldn’t pass for that age.

“You’re barely fourteen if that.” The man said running a hand through his hair. “It’s late, and you’re walking the roads. Why?”

“Look, I need to get to Jefferson. If you don’t want to take me that’s fine, I’ll find someone else.” She reached for the door handle only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll take you but only because if not I know you’ll go anyway, and some people that’ll pick you up aren’t as nice as me.” There was silence for a moment as he got back on the road and the truck groaned along. Abruptly he cleared his throat and added. “But I need some answers…why are you going to that city?”

“The clinic.” Deanna clamped her mouth shut as she realized what she had said. The truth had popped out unwillingly. She turned to stare out the window hoping the guy wouldn’t ask further.

Her wish was granted, for three minutes than he said. “You’re pregnant?”

Deanna thought about lying but the weight of all the lies she had already told hung like a rope around her neck. She nodded, and even though she hadn’t said the words it felt good to let a little of the truth be known.

“You know who the father is?”

Another nod.

“Does he know you’re pregnant?”

This time she answered, gritting out the words with her eyes burning. “Yes.”

“And doesn’t want anything to do with you or the baby?”

Deanna bit her lip…John wanted something to do with her all right…he wanted all the wrong things. As for the _baby_ she didn’t want to think about the thing growing inside of her like that…it would only make what she had to do harder. Still, she had to lie…she always lied. Only the lie was the truth this time.

“He doesn’t care.”

The guy nodded, like he understood, but he didn’t. She could tell he didn’t. He spent the next half an hour trying to persuade her she had options…he didn’t understand—never would—that she never had options…only orders.

After 30 minutes of him talking and her staring out the window in silence, he fell quiet. She was pretty sure he hadn’t given up so much as retreated to plan his next attacks. She was resolved not to fall for whatever he said, it wasn’t that he would lie…expect it was. He was lying to her he just didn’t realize it…everything _wasn’t_ going to be okay.

When they got to Jefferson he didn’t drop her off at the clinic, instead he was left to walk a few blocks there in the cloud. She was supposed to use the time to think about her decision and hopefully come to the _‘Godly and morally right thing to do.’_ She wanted to spit in his face. Where was God when her dad—she mentally corrected herself—John was fucking her? What was moral or Godly in carrying the child that would be her half brother or sister and Sam’s sibling and nephew or niece.

There were a few people outside, they milled around the clinic like angry bees. It was the sign near the door that promised salvation for her, that they condemned. _Low-No cost abortions for those that qualify._

 A woman with a huge cross around her neck and thick glasses, lipstick that was too red and brown hair came up to her. “You’re barely more than a girl and already sinning. Abortion is a sin. God has---“

Others came then like flies upon a piece of rotting meat. Some yelled, some prayed for her, papers were shoved in her hands, and still she edged towards the clinic door. She felt like crying, she wanted to yell at the people telling her she would burn in hell she was already there.

She wanted to say that they were liars…they were lying to themselves and saw only what they wanted to see. But she stayed silent, dying inside and outwardly still alive. The world was full of lies. As she composed her face and opened the door of the women’s health clinic she felt like just another one.

The receptionist behind the counter looked at her as she walked up. The woman’s expression was neutral. Deanna stared at the middle aged brunette and tried to figure out what to say.

Was there a code...a polite euphemism…some sort of phrase …how did someone say they wanted to get rid of the thing growing inside of them.

In the end she blurted it out. “I need an abortion.”

There wasn’t the shocked silence she expected…or the hush she expected to fall. Instead the woman asked for her ID….she had brought a faked one just in case (it said she was sixteen).

They took her back to the clinic, and ran some quick tests. Then she had to sit while some woman told her about other options, like adoption…Deanna tried to tune it all out. None of it was options; she only had one option…that was all she ever had.

The nurses, and doctor and whoever else that can in and out (most of them didn’t introduce themselves and the ones that did she couldn’t remember their names) acted like somehow this was her fault. They didn’t say it outright but she could see in their eyes the accusations, another irresponsible teen mother, another foolish little girl… Her heart hurt in her chest from the effort of keeping the truth back, she let their unsaid criticisms weigh her down just like the words of the protestors outside had…

She couldn’t tell the truth because it wouldn’t be only John who would be hurt, it would also be her…and most importantly Sam. They would split her and Sam up… _they_ being CPS, DCFS, and a whole bunch of shadowy men represented only by acronyms but who would control her life until the day she turned eighteen…any fate was better than hurting Sam even if she was the one who got hurt in the process.

When the time came to do the deed. She laid down on the cold table and got as far as the doctor’s cold gloved hands touching her below. His hands were cold…colder than John’s when he touched…his were like fire burning her…making her hurt inside and out….using the hot iron of his will to turn her into whatever he wanted.

The hands touching her now were like a dead thing…and she wanted no part of either. The doctor’s hands plucking life from her that she had no say I whether she got to keep or not, or John’s hands forcing her to be what he wanted.

As he pulled out a long syringe, Deanna sat up, snapping her legs closed and jumping off the table.

“What are you doing?” The doctor sounded accusatory like she was taking something from him.

She was only taking back what was hers.

Her body. Her will.

She walked out the door, grabbed her clothes and got dressed. She didn’t want the thing inside her, but she didn’t want John or a doctor or anyone to decide what was going to happen to her anymore.

It was a long walk back two towns over. In the end she got a ride only a few miles outside town back to where she was staying with Sam. A family picked her up on the side the road. There van was muddy but the three kids and two women inside looked nice enough.

“Where you going?”

Deanna leaned back against her headrest closing her eyes. “Home.”

It was a crummy motel, but Sam was there…and Sam was—would always be—home.  Sam was in bed by the time she got back, he woke up though and looked over at her. “Where are the groceries?”

She had forgotten the lie she had told him. In the end she said. “The store was too expensive.”

“How much was it going to cost?”

Deanna bit her lip, tasting blood in her mouth. How much had it been about to cost? The clinic was supposedly free, but having the abortion …being forced to do something else she didn’t want to do with her own body…. “Everything I had left…it was going to cost everything I had left.”

Then she felt tears burn her eyes. Sam sensed something was wrong, he always did. “Hey, it’s okay. Dad will be back soon and we’ve got food and—“ She let his arms wrap around her tightly, as he tried to soothe her. She knew she was scaring him. She never cried, it was her job to be the strong one.

But a mountain could erode over time.

The choice wasn’t hers. Deanna awoke two days later, to blood on the sheets. Sam had screamed she was dying, until she reminded him it was just a period….except it wasn’t. He didn’t know why she locked herself in the bathroom for the rest of the day, or see her laid there panting with blood running down her legs. He didn’t hear her scream silently as the cramps grew so bad she almost wished she was dead.

He fell asleep outside the door, wrapped up in a blanket. And when she finally got cleaned up and felt well enough to stand it was over. She picked him up setting him on the bed and went to sleep snuggled next to him…next to her Sam…Sam who was home…Sam who kept her safe-- _was safe the same as sane?_

John came back a day shy of a full week.

“Dad!” Sam raced up to hug him. Deanna hung back, watching. John’s dark eyes looked over Sam’s head. He didn’t have to ask the question.

She answered anyway. “It’s done.”

He gave a tight lipped smile, reaching out and pulling her into the hug. His breath was in her hair, one hand cupped her behind as he said just so she could hear. “That’s my good little soldier…my good little girl.”

But she couldn’t be both…could she?


End file.
